


The Devil of the Outer Reaches

by Footloose



Series: May the Fourth [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Footloose/pseuds/Footloose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Emperor's minions catch up to Arthur Pendragon just as he is about to make a deal with the Devil of the Outer Reaches in a plan to curtail the Empire.  He can't count on the rogue smuggler or his partner to help him out in a firefight, and where the bloody Hell is Merlin?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil of the Outer Reaches

**Author's Note:**

> Happy May the Fourth!
> 
> * * *

"Oh, God," Arthur whispered.

Arthur Pendragon, High Lord of Camelot, King of Albion and all of its corollary star systems, vanguard of the United Federation of Neutral Systems and sworn ally of the Jedi, would never admit it to anyone, but he was afraid of heights. Few people knew of this particular detail, and Arthur had worked very hard to keep it that way. Unfortunately, there were a handful of individuals who definitely would use this against him, and one of those was Morgana Le Fay.

Arthur accepted Merlin's steadying catch as he dropped down the last few metres when the rope proved too short for the rest of the drop. He stared at the rock face for a moment, grateful for the sensation of solid ground beneath his feet. Well and fully aware of the irony of being one of the most renowned free-space fighters while simultaneously being afraid of heights, Arthur unbuckled the climbing harness with as much insouciance as he could muster and turned around, blaster in hand, to join the others.

Merlin, the little shite, was smirking in amusement. No doubt he'd seen the unavoidable butt-wriggle that Arthur used to squirm out of the harness. If they were in more mixed company, Arthur would have tried for dignified. Since Gwaine was a self-absorbed pillock and Perceval had other things to be watching that weren't Arthur's arse, Arthur brushed himself off and glanced around.

Any lingering doubt that Gwaine had been all talk vanished when Arthur saw the obvious signs of inhabitation in the asteroid's pressurized cavern. It wasn't unusual to find pockets of breathable atmosphere in asteroids large enough to have them, but an asteroid with a breathable atmospheric cavern, coupled with hundreds of footprints smeared across the dust and dirt, were slightly more uncommon than a generous and merciful Hutt.

Arthur dimmed the artificial illumination on his suit, not wanting to attract undue attention.

Gwaine noisily tore into a foil-wrapped ration bar and popped a piece in his mouth.

Arthur glared at him. Perceval growled low in his throat. Merlin rolled his eyes and stared heavenward, back the way they'd come.

"What?" Gwaine said, finally noticing that all eyes were on him. "It's not like they don't know we're here. Didn't you notice the sensors about halfway down?"

"I pointed those out to you," Arthur groused. "You were supposed to disable them."

Never in a million years would he have a man with Gwaine's devil-may-care attitude in his employ, and he was already regretting ordering Leon to take the ship to join the battle on the front lines near Aloxia VII. He was sure that the reported attack was only a feint by the Sith, but if they broke through the line there, the Sith would be in a good position to catch the Republic's main force by surprise. This mission to the Outer Reaches was too important to leave for later, or Arthur would have gone with Leon as soon as they'd heard, without finding a smuggler to help them with navigating dangerous territory.

"Was I?" Gwaine said, crumpling the wrapper and tossing it over his shoulder. "Oh. Oops."

Arthur couldn't tell if Gwaine really was this careless and had survived this long through sheer luck alone, or if he had taken the opportunity to set a trap for Arthur in exchange for a reward far more plum than the one posted by the Sith. He turned his blaster on Gwaine and engaged the recharge unnecessarily, the faint buzz a far more threatening sound in the echoing silence of the cavern than any warning Arthur might give.

Perceval growled and aimed his missile launcher at Arthur. No amount of cajoling by anyone had convinced the half-Wookie to leave it behind on the _Raptor_.

Merlin sighed heavily, scratched the back of his head, and walked away from them, disappearing into the darkness. Arthur prided himself on being able to get out of tight situations without any assistance whatsoever, but it would have been nice if Merlin had at least taken care of the bloody missile launcher.

"This is a trap, isn't it?" Arthur asked.

"Now why would I do that, Princess?" Gwaine raised his hands -- _finally_ \-- but it was more to expound on his innocence than to placate Arthur into lowering his weapon. "I'm a kept man, now, and at your service. I thought you'd prefer a welcoming committee to getting our heads lopped off for trespassing. I mean, _seriously_ , mate. This is Le Fay that we're talking about."

Arthur exhaled slowly through his nose and counted to ten. "I am aware."

Gwaine smiled genially and swept a swashbuckler bow, inviting Arthur to take the lead. "In that case, perhaps we should go in? No sense in making the lady wait."

Arthur gritted his teeth. He nodded sharply and lowered his blaster, though he didn't holster it. Perceval hawed a protesting growl.

"Sure, I could've told him," Gwaine said amiably, "But where's the fun in that?"

"I haven't paid off your debts yet," Arthur warned, ignoring Gwaine's squawk of protest to follow after Merlin.

The cavern seemed to swallow the light of Arthur's torch, the curves and turns both winding and claustrophobic, but there were few side tunnels and the path was essentially a straight, if labyrinthine, shot to their destination. Arthur emerged to an open dome completely enshrouded in rock and lit up with enough artificial lights to render someone as blind as a ranger who'd been out too long on Hoth. There were several small ships lined up in a neat row at the far side, several quaint little buildings at the other end from hangar bay doors, and Gwaine's so-called "welcoming committee" in the middle of the tarmac.

Arthur tightened his grip on the blaster, but didn't raise it.

"Uh," Gwaine said intelligently. "That's not the wining and dining I was promised."

"A little off on that one, I'd say," Arthur agreed.

Perceval _graw-growl-growl_ ed, raising his missile launcher to his shoulder.

"How could I even have known? Gwen _promised_ me everything would be set up with my favourites if I got us here in time for tea," Gwaine protested.

Perceval said something else, and Gwaine put his hands on his hips, stomping a foot on the ground.

"I do not fall for every pretty face I see," he protested.

The pretty face in question was sitting at a table that looked, for every intent and purpose, to have been meant for a fancy little dinner. Gwen was pale, probably from too much adrenaline bleeding out of her system, but there was a tell-tale tightness around the mouth that spoke of growing fury. Arthur sincerely hoped that she would be aiming it toward the sharp-eyed blonde woman holding a blaster to her head.

"You all right, Gwen?" Arthur asked.

"I've had better days," Gwen said. She looked him over. "You're looking well."

"I've been having better days," Arthur said, though he kept his fond smile to himself and didn't look around for Merlin. Just _where_ had that brat gone? He couldn't have doubled back on Arthur, not without having been seen.

But then again, Merlin _was_ a member of a secret sect within the Jedi, one Arthur wasn't supposed to know about. Merlin was tight-lipped and deflecting at Arthur's probing questions, but Arthur could read him like a book. There were things Merlin could do that probably frightened the majority of the Jedi Council.

"And you, Morgana?" Arthur asked.

Though she was seated at the table with Gwen, on the other side from the woman who was ignoring her, Morgana looked to be completely put-out that she wasn't the one with a weapon to her head. Slim, svelte, even Elfin in appearance, Morgana's brunet curls cascaded from a pinned-up hairstyle that accentuated her features and made her eyes sparkle a bright purple shade.

"I don't like party crashers," Morgana said, tapping a manicured finger on the table. The sound was both ominous and familiar.

"I understand I made reservations," Arthur said. He shifted his stance to address Gwaine, though he didn't take his eyes from the uniformed woman holding a gun to Gwen's head or the Imperial Troopers who were spread out in staggered double-ranks on either side of the table, their guns raised and ready. "Unless I was misled about that as well?"

"The maître d' was rather snotty over the phone. It's possible that he lost our time slot on purpose," Gwaine said.

Perceval growled lowly.

"I know!" Gwaine exclaimed. "How dare he? Doesn't he know who we are?"

Almost as one, the Imperial Troopers gunned their blasters, revving the power pack. The action was probably meant to be threatening, but the sound faded thinly in the wide-open dome, like a shrill animal shriek.

"I'll make sure to fire him. I cannot have sub-par staff treating my guests that way. It's bad for business," Morgana said amiably. She leaned back in her seat, outwardly unconcerned. Arthur wasn't fooled, though. He knew what Gwen meant to her. He also knew that she wouldn't have set up this elaborate dinner table for him without making absolutely certain that her security was impeccable. Why they hadn't reacted to the current situation to resolve it with prejudice by now was beyond Arthur. "Your Majesty, allow me to introduce you to Morgause Gaulois, Commander of some sort of Death Destroyer I'm told has been positioned close to the Hydra Nebula on the outer edge of my galaxy."

The irritation in Morgana's tone was almost physical. It was also a little hysterical. Arthur had to fight to hide his smile. Morgana hadn't changed at all.

"Commander Gorlois, this is --" Morgana propped her elbow on the arm of her chair, uncurling her fingers to gesture vaguely in Arthur's direction.

"Arthur Pendragon of Camelot and Albion," Morgause said, her tone flat. Her eyes narrowed assessingly. "I am stunned to see you in such poor company."

"Hey!" Gwaine said.

"As am I," Arthur admitted.

"Hey!" Gwaine said again.

"Where are his men?" Morgause asked, turning to one of the Imperial Troopers.

The Trooper lowered his gun, brought his off-hand to bear, and tapped at the controls strapped to his wrist. He reviewed the holographic pop-up and tapped his ear as if speaking to someone on the radio. Satisfied, he said, "Navigation reports that only one ship arrived. It matches the _Raptor_ 's configuration. They came alone."

Morgause's eyebrows rose. Her mouth twisted into a superior sneer. "How careless."

"I feel I should be insulted, somehow," Gwaine said. Perceval rumbled something in response.

"You may go," Morgause said, removing the blaster from Gwen's temple. Morgana's eyes flashed to the side in interest, though she didn't react. The blaster waved in Gwaine's and Perceval's direction, gesturing for the two of them to move along. 

"Have we been dismissed?" Gwaine asked, his tone _sotto voce_. "I feel we've been dismissed."

Perceval snorted and chawed a growl.

"You're right. I'm definitely insulted now." Gwaine turned to Morgause, spreading his bare hands. "Don't you know who we are? I mean, a simpleton maître d', I understand. But you? You have no excuse. I'm a person of interest, damn it --"

The blaster, which had settled to aim on Arthur, now fixed firmly on Gwaine. Gwaine immediately held up his hands.

"Backing away now," Gwaine said, pulling at Perceval's arm. Perceval gestured angrily, but went along with him; whatever conversation the two of them were having out of earshot, it certainly seemed as if Gwaine was intent on saving their hides.

Arthur didn't expect anything more from those two. But Merlin -- damn him. Where was he? 

Morgause raised her chin smugly. "Put down your weapon, Pendragon, and come quietly. I can't promise you that you won't come to any harm, but I will do my best to ensure a quick death after a long, protracted torture."

Arthur smiled with far more bravado than he actually felt and raised his weapon, pointing it at her head. "That's very kind. I'm afraid I have other plans. Perhaps a raincheck for _never_? Half-past? Does that work for you?"

He winced inwardly. He was starting to sound like Merlin.

She gestured with a little wave over her shoulder. A figure hidden by the rows of Imperial Troopers broke rank stepped forward. Broad shoulders, slim build -- shorter than Arthur by a fair bit. The man's features were hidden under a pitch-black cloak, and he kept his gloved hands clasped in front of him.

The air buzzed.

The Sith moved with a languid, rolling gait around the table. Arthur watched him out of the corner of his eye, but kept his blaster trained on Morgause. He should be worried more about the threat coming his way rather than an Imperial Commander who looked the sort to leave the dirty work to other people, but, honestly, he was more worried about the damage a weapons blast would do to his face. At least with a Sith, he was more or less guaranteed a pretty death.

Where the _fuck_ was Merlin? He was going to spank the Jedi if he didn't come out from wherever he was hiding soon. Hell, if they made it out of this alive, Arthur definitely was going to spank Merlin, just on principle. There was fun to be had, though he would never admit it.

A weighty pressure pushed on the blaster in his hand. Arthur tightened his grip to no avail; the blaster flew across the tarmac, landing with a skipping thump on the dinner table. It was within Morgause's reach, probably as intended. But it was in Morgana's reach, too, though she hadn't moved an inch.

Arthur clenched empty air before shaking out his fist, ignoring the pins and needles running up his hand and arm. This Sith had absolutely no finesse. When Merlin divested him of anything -- weapons, food, even clothing -- Arthur didn't feel it unless Merlin wanted him to, and even then, it was a velvety touch.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance," Arthur said calmly, hating that he needed to reach deep down into his royal upbringing to hide his anxiety.

The Sith stopped a few metres away, at an angle that didn't block Morgause's line of sight. He reached up and pushed back his hood. The rough material pillowed around his shoulders, revealing long, curly hair tied back at the base of the one-sided Mohawk. The shaved side of his head was bare except for a long scar on proud display.

Arthur recognized that scar. Gwaine whistled and Perceval growled low, also recognizing the scar. Even if the man wore a mask to hide a face heavily decorated with black war paint that covered what would otherwise be handsome features and cold, watery eyes, a blind man would recognize the scar.

Mordred.

"Oh. It's you," Arthur said, putting as much feigned disinterest into his tone as he was able. He eyed Mordred up and down, taking note of the single saber at his waist. Everything Arthur had heard about this particular Sith had hinted he preferred simple weapons. Apparently that was true. 

"You should be honoured," Mordred said, his voice whisper-quiet and gravelly. He tilted his head to the side, just a fraction, like a warg inspecting its prey and wondering how edible it was.

"That the Emperor feels the need to send his pet dog to nip at my heels?" Arthur asked, rounding his shoulders. "If this is his idea of flattery, I admit that it falls far, far short of the royal ideal, even by the Republic's standards."

Mordred bared his teeth and hissed. His teeth were sharpened into points and the sibilant sound was more of a breathy rasp. Arthur had heard stories of hearing a reptilian laugh before death at Mordred's hand; he wondered if this was that same sound.

"Enough. Take him," Morgause snapped.

"You're going to let her order you around?" Arthur asked mildly. Mordred's gloved hands spasmed, as if he were very tempted to do something about Morgause's tone.

Instead, he raised his arm and --

Arthur was dragged backward by an invisible hand, out of Mordred's reach and nearly too fast to catch his footing. Simultaneously, Mordred was knocked off his feet, rolling across the tarmac toward the hangar bay doors.

\-- all fucking Hell broke loose.

Morgana grabbed Arthur's blaster from the table. Morgause was shot at by a sharpshooter positioned somewhere behind Arthur. The Imperial Troopers started firing at, well, _nothing_ , it seemed, effectively draining down their blasters' power cells and scorching what was an otherwise pristine tarmac.

Arthur grabbed his spare firearm and engaged in the shooting. Gwaine shouted, "What the -- no, don't shoot _now_." A missile roared across the dome and went wide, missing the Troopers at either side of the table and blowing up a cavernous hole right before backup Troopers on the far end of the dome moved forward. Gwen stood up, kicked at something -- a female voice cried out -- and collected Morgause's blaster before moving clear.

Morgana disabled several Imperial Troopers before lunging after Gwen, the two of them running past more of Morgause's men before falling clear. Arthur covered their retreat as best as he could, Gwaine joining in with a cackle of excitement, but he might as well have spared his power cell, because Morgana's men had spurred into action.

They swarmed from everywhere, emerging from nooks and crannies that Arthur had otherwise thought too small to shelter a full-grown man. They wore black uniforms and matte-finish body armour, moving forward with a familiar precision and cohesion. At once, Arthur felt at ease, even though he wasn't surrounded by his Knights. He'd long suspected that Morgana had carefully cultivated an army of all the men and women who hadn't made the grade to join Arthur's military elite, but now he had the proof.

The Imperial Troopers were subdued in short order, most of them dead or unconscious while the rest were routed back the way they came. Morgana and Gwen, though armed and deadly, were shoved to the rear in a more defensible position, because none of these mercenaries wanted to lose a well-paying employer. Perceval banged at his defective missile launcher, sounding upset that he hadn't been able to get off more than one shot. Gwaine blew at the tip of his blaster, struck an exaggerated heroic pose, and flung his hair back, winking at Gwen and Morgana.

Morgana rolled her eyes. Gwen snorted.

Arthur quickly turned when he heard the recognizable hum of a lightsaber. Mordred had stayed out of the firefight, though he hadn't quite escaped the laser blasts, if the holes through his black robe were any indication. And yet, his attention wasn't on Arthur. It was on --

Merlin. 

Of course, Merlin would choose now to emerge from behind a pile of cargo boxes and barrels haphazardedly scattered along the wall, his hood and robe shadowing his features. Something about the way he moved, like a predator protecting its pack, hinted that he hadn't been hiding from the fight, but ushering it along.

His movements were just as languid as Mordred's had been, though _easier_ , somehow, fixed with a sort of careless grace and acute awareness of his own body. He stopped to stand between Arthur and Mordred, shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance," Mordred said, mocking Arthur's earlier words. The mockery fell short, because there was a confused tremble to Mordred's tone.

Merlin pulled off his hood in what was yet another grand reveal -- Arthur sincerely hoped that Morgana was enjoying herself. She always had a flair for the dramatic. Merlin must have remembered how much Morgana liked a bit of a show. Normally, Merlin was nothing but purely functional, but Arthur felt as if he were in a theatre, a victim of terrible, exaggerated acting.

Mordred snarled in recognition. " _Emrys_."

"Sure, yeah. That's what you lot call me, though I've no idea why." Merlin made a soft _tsk_ ing click with his tongue and waggled a finger in the air. "But that's not my name. It's Merlin. Can you say it? Two syllables, very simple. Mer-lin --"

Mordred attacked Merlin, all thoughts of taking Arthur prisoner for placement on the Emperor's sacrificial altar forgotten. His red lightsaber flashed brightly in the air, a circular light artefact trailing his every movement. Merlin dodged once; he swept aside twice. And finally, he raised his twin lightsabers, crossing them before him, catching Mordred's strike in a blinding spark within the crossed Vee of his blades.

"What do we do with this?" a familiar voice asked. Arthur had a difficult time taking his eyes from Merlin -- it wasn't often that he had the opportunity to watch Merlin fight like this, unrestrained and relentless. But he managed, and he returned Lancelot's cheerful grin with a grave nod.

Lancelot held up Morgause's body. It wasn't a corpse, not yet, but the wound was grave enough that Morgause wouldn't survive for long.

Morgana made a dismissive gesture and moved to stand protectively in front of Gwen. "What we always do when someone threatens us."

"Jettison her?" Lancelot asked.

"Make sure you shoot her first," Gwen said.

Lancelot beamed, giving Gwen a loving look that went a long way into explaining why the man had refused Arthur's offer of a commission, years ago, and waved for a few of his men to help him. They dragged Morgause to the far end of the dome, presumably to take her the short route to the surface of the asteroid and to vent her into space.

Mordred's attacks had turned vicious and reckless by the time Arthur returned his attention to the fight. Merlin blocked each and every strike easily. A particular kamikaze attempt forced Merlin to skitter back; Mordred took advantage of the situation to use a Sith trick to throw Merlin into a big pile of debris.

Arthur winced. Merlin climbed out, all gangly limbs and annoyance. The sight stirred fond memories of Camelot, Merlin wearing that ridiculous red scarf and nothing else, struggling to get out of a bale of hay.

"I meant to tell the men to clean up that mess," Morgana said by way of apology, sliding a hand around Arthur's arm. She offered up his blaster.

"Hard to imagine the deadliest person this side of the Outer Reaches as a complete slacker, but there's clearly evidence to the contrary," Arthur said, gesturing. Merlin's scandalized noise as he broke free of the rubble to chase Mordred across the tarmac was very much like the one he made whenever Arthur ate the last of the chocolate-covered Aldaran berries. "You've turned into such a slob, Morgana."

He holstered his second blaster and took the other from Morgana's hand, checking the charge as was his habit, and narrowly escaped her sharp fingernails digging into his ribs.

Merlin disappeared on the other side of the dome, darting into a cleverly-disguised tunnel that Arthur hadn't noticed before. Arthur grimaced, twitching with the urge to follow. He successfully suppressed that urge only because he knew he'd never be able to catch up, and because he'd only end up getting in the way. He had to remind himself that Merlin was more than capable of taking care of himself, these days. Arthur hoped the same held true when his opponent was a Sith of Mordred's gruesome reputation.

"Sorry about the trouble," Arthur said, kissing his little sister on the cheek.

"Oh, it was getting boring --"

"Excuse me, your _sister_?" Gwaine interrupted, crowding into Arthur's space. "Are you telling me that the Devil -- the deadliest weapons dealer in the bloody universe -- is your _sister_?"

"Illegitimate," Morgana volunteered proudly.

"Still my sister," Arthur said fondly. He gave Gwaine a hard look, poking him in the chest with his blaster. "And whatever designs you have on her, forget it."

"I can take you," Gwaine scoffed. "And if I can't, Perce certainly can."

"Can he take Gwen?" Arthur asked, tilting his head toward Morgana's lover. Gwen stood off to the side, sweet as can be, her smile soft and her eyes sparkling, radiating innocence and harmlessness. It was very deceptive, but effective. She was faint blushes and cute simpers before she sliced the enemy's throat.

Perceval glanced between Gwaine and Gwen. After a moment, he _grow-grraw-growl_ ed.

"You bloody wuss. I thought you were my best mate!" Gwaine said. Perceval shrugged his shoulders, but shook his head violently and took a step back when Gwen smiled at him.

A shout at the other end of the dome attracted their attention. Lancelot and Merlin walked toward them side by side, both of them bearing murderous expressions. There was no sign of the men Lancelot had taken with him to help with Morgause, and both appeared to have recently bathed in dirt.

"They got away," Lancelot explained.

"Triggered a cave-in," Merlin said unhappily, coming to a stop next to Arthur. Arthur couldn't help it. He reached out and brushed some rubble from Merlin's shoulder, his fingers lingering close to the bare skin of his throat.

Morgana gave him a knowing look. Arthur ignored her.

"Hello, Morgana. It's been a long time."

Morgana kissed Merlin's cheek and murmured something too low for most to hear, but Arthur was close enough to make out, "If you leave him again, I'll have your balls."

"Yes, ma'am," Merlin said, pulling away. His cheeks coloured, his smile was faint, and he looked at Arthur with eyes full of that very same promise he'd been making to Arthur since they met again.

"Should we go after them, Ms. Le Fay?" Lancelot asked.

"No," Morgana mused, shaking her head. "Not with a Destroyer out there. Gather the men, blow the base, and…"

She turned to Arthur, gesturing toward Gwaine. 

"Why don't you follow us? I have your supplies at a way point. That is, of course, if you have the payment," Morgana said, eyeing Arthur doubtfully.

Arthur snorted. "Don't I always?"


End file.
